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Quinn had run into all manner of flimflammery
prestidigitation.”
“I’m somebody else now,”
How tranquilizing it was to arm yourself with information, how consoling to unpack the facts and then plant them like fence pickets, building a sturdy pen in
which you stood alone, cosseted against human fallibility.
“So,” Belle said, “you’re—what? Just floating in space? Nothing to prove you actually exist?” She...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Biding struck her as a handsome quality in a man.
Can memory be revisited to allow us to see now what we didn’t see then?
